


Subjects

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s hard to look away and down at the camera in his hands, harder still to pull the lens up in focus, and Yamamoto ends up lingering instead, drawing the view up slow, across the easy angle of Gokudera’s knees and up to the slouch of his shoulders." Tsuna has a camera, and Yamamoto and Gokudera take turns taking pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hayato

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny_Pichu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/gifts).



Yamamoto is lucky that the classroom door doesn’t squeak. From the hallway it’s hard enough to manage stealth with a group of three, even if Reborn is perfectly silent on his shoulder and Tsuna is hovering by the doorway instead of coming in. Even with a book to distract him, Gokudera is usually aware enough of his surroundings to notice someone approaching; if they get close enough to achieve their goal, it will be from luck as much as skill.

Luck, as it turns out, proves to be on Yamamoto’s side. The sun is streaming through the window behind Gokudera, preventing the telltale of shadows from giving away the other’s presence, and there’s a tiny gust of wind from the pushed-open pane, the faint murmur of other students outside helping to disguise Yamamoto’s approach. And Gokudera is  _truly_  entranced by the book on his lap, his attention written into the casual angle of his arm on the windowsill and the relaxed slump of his shoulders as much as demonstrated by the glasses he almost never wears in public and the tie holding his hair away from his face.

Yamamoto knows he should take the picture. It’s a lovely angle, he can tell without any experience, is certain that he can capture that uncommon gentleness at Gokudera’s features without any skill beyond holding the camera steady. But it’s hard to look away and down at the camera in his hands, harder still to pull the lens up in focus, and Yamamoto ends up lingering instead, drawing the view up slow, across the easy angle of Gokudera’s knees and up to the slouch of his shoulders. He lingers on Gokudera’s unsuspecting face for a long moment as everything in his thoughts but appreciation goes blank, until his finger stalls on the capture button and his breathing catches short in his chest.

Yamamoto’s not sure what it is that tips Gokudera off. He might make some unconscious sound, a tiny affectionate sigh escaping past his lips. Maybe Gokudera just feels the sustained stare, intuition picking up on the focused heat of Yamamoto’s gaze. Yamamoto can see the tension appear in his features as he blinks, suspicion creasing his forehead as his eyes come up from the page to stare straight into the lens of the camera, and he knows it’s too late but he pushes the button anyway, hears the shutter click just as Gokudera starts to shout, “Hey!” and move from his chair.

“Time to go,” Reborn says in Yamamoto’s ear, and the camera is sliding from his hold as Reborn tugs it free and hops away to make for the door. Yamamoto doesn’t even turn aside to watch him go. Tsuna might be making a photo album, but even the best picture can’t compete with the flushed-embarrassed reality in front of him. Gokudera’s hold rumples his sweater, Gokudera’s protests ring in his ears, but all Yamamoto can see is the shine of his eyes behind his glasses and the warm damp at his lips, and he doesn’t bother offering any defense besides laughter and upraised hands.

He’d let Gokudera do anything to him, anyway. By now, he’s pretty sure they both know that.


	2. Takeshi

There is no way Gokudera isn’t going to get his revenge.

It’s bad enough that Yamamoto managed to take a picture of him when he wasn’t looking. Worse is that Gokudera let himself be surprised, didn’t realize the other boy was there until he looked up into the lens of the camera. Worst of all is that Yamamoto  _distracted_  him after, that the sound of his laugh and the heat of his mouth pulled Gokudera’s attention aside, made him forget he was angry until the other slipped away with an excuse of club practice. It wasn’t until Yamamoto was out of the room that Gokudera had been able to remember why he was so irritated in the first place, and then it was only the stronger for the delay.

Reborn hadn’t asked any questions when Gokudera threw the door open seething with the need to pay Yamamoto back. He had just held up the camera like an offering, ignoring Tsuna’s protests about keeping it safe, and Gokudera had snatched it from his hand, barely pausing to growl, “Don’t worry, Tenth, I’ll be right back” before stomping down the hall towards the baseball field.

The team is already out when he gets there, an array of boys in matching white uniforms. It would be hard to pick one out from the crowd except that the one Gokudera is looking for is Yamamoto, that his eyes are drawn to the familiar shape of the other’s shoulders like it’s a magnet.

Yamamoto doesn’t turn around as Gokudera approaches, doesn’t even react to the protests of the rest of the team as Gokudera walks straight past the threat of bats and baseballs alike. He’s holding a bat up in front of him, his hands as steady on the handle as if it’s the hilt of his sword; Gokudera can see the dark of his good-luck wristbands wrapping the clean lines of his arms.

He doesn’t waste time. He’s lifting the camera immediately, before Yamamoto has time to turn and see him. It’s only a moment to pan up over the other’s body, to get the lens centered on his face, and Yamamoto is just turning, blinking surprise at the camera as he lowers the bat, as Gokudera reaches for the capture button.

He doesn’t have time to stop when he sees Yamamoto start to smile, sincere pleasure at seeing Gokudera spreading out over his features. The shutter clicks, the photograph inevitable, and when Gokudera blinks Yamamoto is grinning at the camera, one hand raised in a peace sign as if he had plenty of time to pose for the shot.

It’s infuriating, to have his planned revenge turn into a more flattering picture than Gokudera could imagine. But the rest of the team is shouting protest at him, and Yamamoto’s eyes are offering suggestions Gokudera can’t afford to take right now, so he contents himself with growling irritation and storming off the field.

He may have been hoping for too much, he realizes after Tsuna and Reborn have reclaimed the camera, while he’s lingering waiting for baseball practice to end. It’s all well and good to plan revenge via a picture of Yamamoto looking less than perfect, but he can hardly take a photograph of something that doesn’t exist.


End file.
